<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Denn die Todten reiten Schnell by anachronist</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27706301">Denn die Todten reiten Schnell</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/anachronist/pseuds/anachronist'>anachronist</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hellsing, 文豪ストレイドッグス | Bungou Stray Dogs</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>BSD Chapter 88 spoilers, Crossover, Crossovers &amp; Fandom Fusions, Gen, Horror, I just wanted to write a certain interaction but the rest of the gang insisted coming along, M/M, Spoiler tags listed in the author's notes, integra and alucard still have that UST going on, please don't repost on other sites</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 14:33:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,378</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27706301</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/anachronist/pseuds/anachronist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The body count climbs.</p><p>Meanwhile, a Count visits an old, tired acquaintance who just wants to sleep.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>m/m ship won't be tagged to avoid fic spoilers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Canon spoiler tags listed at the end notes.</p><p>In the event that you're unfamiliar with Hellsing and Hellsing Ultimate, be warned: this will be a blood bath.</p><p>For those of you who know the canon, I've made a few changes to certain lore bits.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tachihara eyed the collection of reports spread on the table before him with sickened suspicion, his jaw tightening as he picked out the numbers that steadily climbed in the past two weeks.</p><p>Fifty-three.</p><p>Two hundred.</p><p>One thousand four hundred and thirty-one.</p><p>Three thousand nine hundred and fifty-six.</p><p>Seven thousand eight hundred and two.</p><p>Until, one day, the number of disappearances abruptly dropped to zero.</p><p>Eleven thousand one hundred and thirty-three was the final count, give or take a few dozen unreported cases. A mere three percent of Yokohama’s total population, but more than ninety-five percent of the personnel, families, and associates tied to the Port Mafia.</p><p>Eleven thousand one hundred and thirty-three lives unaccounted for, neatly blamed on the Agency as their latest stint in domestic terrorism.</p><p>Something wasn’t right.</p><p>Antsy to figure out what had happened to his old comrades and get to the root of the matter, Tachihara donned his old fur-lined jacket again, intent on sneaking into Port Mafia territory in a self-assigned undercover mission. Both Fukuchi and Okura were thankfully away for diplomatic matters, and Tachihara couldn’t wait for them to return for him to request official authorization. Jouno was harder to dodge with his sense of hearing, but in the end, Tachihara told him a very simple, basic truth:</p><p>“As a spy, it’ll look bad if I didn’t keep abreast with the situation. Just in case I needed to go in again.”</p><p>“’Just in case,’” Jouno repeated, fingers tracing the hilt of his saber, polished and ever-ready to be drawn. The creased edges of his thin smile told Tachihara he might not have been successful in his deceit, but Jouno simply patted his shoulder before moving away.</p><p>“If this is about making sure your brother’s killer is dead,” he said, “I won’t stop you.”</p><p>Tachihara forced a casual grin and salute, habits that didn’t go away even if their recipient couldn’t see them, and stalked down the corridor and out of the base as if the Devil himself rode on his heels. He didn’t stop walking until he was a few blocks down, past the crowds of ignorant civilians and a maze of buildings that spoke of commerce and prosperity, entering the shadowed alleyways of Port Mafia’s familiar haunts, empty and cold: the dark side of the city so few wanted to acknowledge, of wickedness making a play at civility.</p><p>His stomach turned. He touched the wall to support himself as he hunched over, and swallowed down the acrid taste of bile that threatened to climb up the back of his throat. In his mind’s eye, he still saw Higuchi springing forward, faster than she could normally accomplish, eyes wild and <i>red red red</i> as she latched onto Gin, sharp fangs piercing the other girl’s neck and greedily drinking in the arterial spray.</p><p>He hasn't slept well in two weeks, the screams of the undead ringing in his ears.</p><p>This morbid viciousness was no plot of the Agency’s. This much he was certain, his conviction bearing the strength of tempered steel tested in the hundreds of skirmishes he’s fought against them.</p><p>The sudden drop in disappearances, however, was a gaping uncertainty. Their genius detective had yet to resurface, and neatly closing off this affair wasn’t Nakajima Atsushi’s style. Tanizaki Junichiro’s illusions wouldn’t have covered up this much, and Yosano’s <i>precious</i> Ability would only have made people reappear.</p><p>So what trump card did they have in fixing this mess? If this was Mori’s doing, why hasn’t he reappeared in person to reassure his dependents that all was well in a show of both stability and strength? And if Ango was involved, the Hunting Dogs had yet to receive word of his involvement.</p><p>Grimacing, Tachihara took out his gun and moved forward, keeping his eyes on the ever shifting shadows. He couldn’t just wait for the answers to fall into his lap when the lives of thousands were at stake: <i>he</i> needed to find <i>them</i> to prove this was an investigation that needed to be re-opened.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <hr/>
</div><div class="center">
  <p>
    <i>- ninety-six hours ago -</i>
  </p>
</div>In the evening, a long distance call came in through the Special Abiities Division’s secure line.<p>“Senpai,” Tsujimura croaked, looking at the screen with trepidation. She, as with most of their small team, looked worse for wear given the amount of office and field work they’ve had to accomplish in the past few days, and that wasn’t counting Ango’s <i>unofficial</i> activities to assist Dazai. “It’s from the Order of the Clocktower.”</p><p>Upon hearing who it was, Ango had no choice but to answer, no matter how much he dreaded what kind of intervention would be offered this time.</p><p>On the video feed were two women, seated opposite one another at the end of a long dining table in a large, ornate greenhouse. One of them was Agatha Christie, plucking a pink macaron from the intricate metal-plated stand on the table. Across her was a blonde, bespectacled dark-skinned woman in a suit, calmly smoking a cigar. At her shoulder was an aged butler wearing a monocle over his left eye and neatly-pressed clothes, his dark-hair tied back at his nape. Both Christie and the butler were smiling, but if the dark-skinned woman’s expression was anything to go by, there was a serious matter at hand.</p><p>“Dame Christie,” Ango said, careful to not show his surprise at Christie’s unprecedented show of accompaniment. She usually preferred to handle these communications in private. “This is unusual.”</p><p>“We heard you have a ghoul problem over there,” Christie said, cutting to the chase as she serenely stirred her tea. “Wherefore, I’ve decided to send a specialist before the issue goes out of hand.”</p><p>“A specialist.” Ango inquired delicately, his ears prickling at the particular term she used. Not vampire. <i>Ghoul.</i></p><p>“This is Sir Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing of the Royal Order of Protestant Knights, otherwise known as the Hellsing Organization,” Christie said with a nod to her companion. “Sir Hellsing, this is Ango Sakaguchi, Acting Director and Assistant Counselor of the Special Abilities Division under the Japanese Ministry of Internal Affairs.”</p><p>It was only with years of experience that Ango didn’t falter. Like any Intelligence Officer worth their salt, he’s heard of the Hellsing Organization – most of their members weren’t Gifted, though their ace had zero qualms cleaning up the vampire problem in Europe before Fukuchi Ouchi himself was even born, making sure they vanished without a trace.</p><p>Just because there were no bodies to be found didn’t mean it wasn’t a massacre. </p><p>“Sir Hellsing,” Ango greeted with a stiff nod. “You’re sending <i>him,</i> then?”</p><p>He didn’t trust Christie enough to inform her of Fukuchi’s involvement in starting this incident. Or, rather, he didn’t trust that Christie wouldn’t send in someone else to eliminate Fukuchi and inadvertently destabilize both the military and the government. On the other hand, he couldn’t help but wonder if this alternative was <i>worse.</i></p><p>Hellsing herself maintained a neutral expression, as stern as she was reputed to be. The knowing smirk of the butler behind her was of little comfort and told a different story: Ango had a feeling that, within hours of the vampire’s landfall, both Hellsing and Christie would discover the source of the problem.</p><p>“Your hunter’s unusually slow on the uptake this time,” Hellsing commented, her disapproval showing only in the way she flicked off the ash from her cigar. “Foreign nation or not, we are sworn to carry out our long-standing duty before this scourge spreads past your borders and reaches the Empire.”</p><p>“We expect your full cooperation, Mr. Sakaguchi,” Christie continued, a sharp glint entering her eyes. “Unless you find some alternative way to solve the issue, he will enter your air space in twelve hours. I trust you’ll extend your country’s famed hospitality to Sir Hellsing’s associate, with everything that entails.”</p><p>“My butler will be arriving with him,” said Hellsing, and the man behind her placed a hand on his chest and bowed in acceptance of the command.</p><p>Well, shit. Behind his back, Ango tightened his grip on his wrist, nails digging deep into his palm and tearing skin. “And what of innocent civilians? Can he guarantee their safety?”</p><p>“Only if they haven’t been bitten,” Hellsing said dispassionately, sunlight glinting off her large, round eyeglasses. “It’s been two weeks, Mr. Sakaguchi. They may be laying low for now, but who’s to say how many they’ve gotten? They will be hiding in abandoned buildings, basements, and sewers, gaining more numbers by the hour before daybreak comes. They will prey on the homeless, the poor, the middle-class in their suburban neighborhoods, the rich in their high rise towers, until no one is left in that ghost town. You tell me why your city and the ships going to and from it shouldn’t be left to burn to smoke them out.”</p><p>Ango swallowed. Cold sweat trickled down his back. The chill that seeped into his bones wasn’t from the air conditioning.</p><p>He was spared by having to reply when Christie said her farewells. As soon as the call ended, he slumped back down to his chair and ran a shaking hand down his face.</p><p>Twelve hours.</p><p>Fukuchi would kill him on the spot if he ever so much hinted that he’d guessed what had transpired. Dazai was out of reach, their line of communication a one-way street. Atsushi and the rest of the Agency were still scattered, and the Port Mafia’s executives were still missing.</p><p>Twelve hours.</p><p>Grimacing, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and started making a few phone calls.</p><p>Twelve hours before the city was doomed, and he had to find a way to stop it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Canon Spoiler Tags: Bram Stoker, vampires, vampire lore</p><p>I just wanted Alucard to greet "van Helsing's nosy theater friend" and for Stoker to complain like the tired vampire he is, and then research and lore happened aaaaaaaaaa</p><p>The title's taken from <i>Dracula.</i> “Denn die Todten reiten Schnell. (For the dead travel fast.)”</p><p>Anyway, comments appreciated!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter as mentions of religion and religious zealotry</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <i>-eighty-four hours ago-</i>
  </p>
</div>A pitch black Airbus A400 bearing the Hellsing coat of arms entered Japanese air space at seven in the morning.<p>It did not land. Instead, the rear access ramp opened once the military-grade transport plane reached the Yokohama Nissan Stadium for an airdrop, and out sailed a human, a long metal crate, and a third item, all three supported by parachutes. With its payload delivered, the aircraft carried on, making a wide turn over the city to head back the direction it came from.</p><p>The message was clear: both the man and his cargo would not withdraw to England until their task was complete.</p><p>Taking a deep breath, Ango pushed his glasses up his nose and marched down to the center of the field, flanked by Murakoso and Takuichi. He looked as put-together as he could be, energized by only two brief naps, a quick shower, a cup of coffee, a bowl of miso soup, and a light salad that he had to force down just so his stomach acid could dissolve something other than the lining of his digestive tract.</p><p>Time to see if twelve hours of preparation and the corresponding risks he had taken would have their expected payoff. If Hellsing’s personnel followed her orders to the letter, Ango would do his best to direct their focus to only the affected portion of the population and, if possible, get as much information as he could to find a means to reverse the situation.</p><p><i>If</i> possible.</p><p>The butler was in the process of divesting himself of the parachute, and Ango could smell the gunpowder off him as he drew close. In other words, he and his companion brought more than just themselves, and Ango buried his irritation at having to answer questions about foreign militants bearing firearms should word of this get out.</p><p>“Good morning,” he said neutrally. Thanks to the files sent to him ahead of time procured through both official channels and discreet connections, he now had a better grasp of who he was dealing with, a boon to his composure for all that going through the relevant records wasn’t pretty, and that acquiring half of what he ended up with might yet cost him his neck. “Walter C. Dorenz. The Hellsing Organization’s own Angel of Death.”</p><p>Neither Murakoso nor Takuichi reacted behind him, although he could imagine Murakoso itching for a piece of gum.</p><p>“Mr. Sakaguchi.” Walter bowed at the waist, graceful even with his advanced years, though the corners of his mouth quirked at the mention of his old title. “I am merely Sir Integra’s butler, here to assist with the successful conclusion of this mission by any means necessary.”</p><p>“I see,” Ango said, and meaningfully looked at the metal box. “I suppose you’ll want him out of daylight for the briefing, if only to avoid the nuisance of applying sunscreen.”</p><p>“We would be grateful,” Walter said, giving Ango a curious look before heading to the third item dropped with them: a sturdy flatbed cart with large wheels.</p><p>How prudent.</p><p>With Murakoso and Takuichi’s assistance, Walter loaded the metal box onto the cart, and all four of them headed for the stadium’s exit and into the parking lot.</p><p>“I was under the impression the Hellsing Organization operated only in Europe,” Ango said once the service elevator’s doors closed. Thanks to the metal box, it was a tight fit. “Or did this policy change after the war?”</p><p>“It hasn’t.” Walter took out a clean handkerchief from his waistcoat pocket and began polishing his monocle, holding it up to the dim fluorescent light for inspection. “That said, there has been an unusual rash of vampire-related incidents in the United Kingdom and South America. My Master wishes to investigate whether your fanged problem is related to these.”</p><p>“And if it isn’t?”</p><p>“Then we will simply carry out our orders and leave, as promised.” Satisfied with the lens’ cleanliness, Walter affixed his monocle to the bridge of his nose. “Preferably before the Vatican’s dogs come sniffing around and claim this land is under their jurisdiction.”</p><p>Ango raised an eyebrow. “Japan is mostly Shinto and Buddhist. If there are any Christians and Catholics, they are in the minority.”</p><p>A deep voice laughed, filling the small compartment with the chill of the grave. The lights flickered. Beneath Ango’s suit, the fine hairs of his body stood on end. “And that is why their militant extremists will declare you and yours as heretics, unworthy of salvation.”</p><p>“Boss,” Murakoso said urgently, pushing him back against the elevator’s walls as her hand flew to the hilt of her katana. Next to her, a grim Takuichi had pulled out his gun and aimed it at the cargo.</p><p>In hindsight, it was foolish of them to assume that the vampire was <i>in</i> the box.</p><p>Walter’s shadow had lengthened, no longer beholden to the elevator’s light, spreading to cover the floor and their cargo. The lid of the metal case was stained pitch. Or, rather, it was more accurate to say that the metal itself had been formed from darkness, and the singular eye that opened at its center now looked at them with amusement, its very existence in defiance of the natural order.</p><p>So. This was what it meant to face an actual Demon that had no need for the mental games Fyodor liked to play. </p><p>In his career as a spy and as a government official, Ango had seen many things that made him question the very fabric of reality. Once in a while, a report that landed on his desk referenced the sighting of monsters straight from a child’s nightmare. On occasion, his Ability caught memories of hauntings, of fae laughter echoing in dark forests, of ancient secrets best left forgotten. He remembered each and every one of them for his impeccable memory didn’t allow him to forget, and at times he found himself wandering to the Bar Lupin, drinking alone next to two empty stools.</p><p>Seated now, before him, was the worst of the undead, reputedly repelled with and contained by a mixture of holy artifacts and foul magic that made Ango question if the Judeo-Christian God actually existed in order for those items and spells to work.</p><p>He cleared his throat and forced himself to focus on the task at hand. Now wasn’t the time to let himself feel overwhelmed.</p><p>“Murakoso, Takuichi. Stand down. And I’ll thank you, Undead King, to not scare my subordinates. We still have a long drive ahead under the morning sun, and I’d rather not explain to your owner why you ended up boiling in your coffin.”</p><p>“Hoh?” Four more eyes opened, then ten, then thirty, their irises a red that glowed from hell, leering with the anticipation of violence. “Is that a threat, human?”</p><p>“A promise,” Ango said with more courage than he felt, his back straight and his chin held high. “More importantly: if you two are here, will the Hellsing Organization be able to handle your share of problems at home? I don’t doubt your Master is capable of handling herself if someone like you has chosen to serve her, although I’m informed that normal munitions are ineffective against your kind.”</p><p>A mouth appeared beneath the cluster of eyes, its grin showing off an elongated tongue and too many sharp teeth as laughter poured out, echoing in the small compartment that seemed to grow ever narrow.</p><p>“We have insurance, Diplomat.” The shadows gathered itself from the compartment and concentrated into the shape of a long-haired man wearing a dark suit, his red shirt and orange-tinted sunglasses the only splashes of color allowed on his form. The vampire’s smile remained unnaturally wide, displaying how much amusement he found in Ango’s words. “Nonetheless, my Master will be pleased to know you’re thinking of her good health.”</p><p>“Naturally,” Ango replied without skipping a beat. Behind him, he allowed a thumbnail to dig into his knuckle, his one concession to his own personal feelings as he faced an existence that rivalled Lovecraft. Even under the circumstances, he refused to wrinkle the sleeve of his jacket by gripping it. “While Dame Christie herself has a vested interest in her decision to intervene in our affairs, I have reason to believe that our respective organizations can work reasonably well together without the complication of politics hanging over our heads.”</p><p>The vampire lowered his sunglasses, revealing the crimson color of his eyes. “I do hope this surprise of yours is worth the introduction. Out with it, human.”</p><p>Something told Ango the vampire wouldn’t wait until they got to the hotel for a proper briefing. Perhaps it was the vampire’s smile, or in the unnatural rigidity of his posture. Perhaps it was Walter’s interest, the spark of his eyes betraying his professional demeanor. Whatever the case, he slipped his hand into the pocket of his coat, reaching for the most vital piece of information they found in preparation for this meeting.</p><p>“We discovered that this is the vampire Fukuchi Ouchi defeated ten years ago.” He held up the photo for the vampire’s inspection. “If I’ve deduced your identity correctly, you will know who he is.”</p><p>To Ango’s secret relief, the vampire’s eyes widened in shock, although he couldn’t say <i>when</i> the creature drew this close.</p><p>“Impossible,” the vampire breathed, plucking the picture from Ango’s fingers with unexpected care. </p><p>Behind him, Walter looked faintly alarmed. “Sir?”</p><p>“Walter.” The vampire’s voice was unexpectedly grave. Tender, almost, as he turned over the photo in his hands. “What do you recall of Bram Stoker?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p><i>Dracula</i>'s a canon novel in Hellsing, so why the hell not.</p><p>Comments are appreciated!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Main fic tags updated.</p><p>Just remember that people have two hands.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bram Stoker.</p><p>Hearing that name from the vampire dampened Ango’s relief as it reminded him of the cost of Fukuchi’s deceit: officially, Bram Stoker had been destroyed in the general’s strike against the vampires, and even Ango’s office had no choice but to trust Fukuchi’s report and forego any independent investigation. Why, indeed, would their war hero commit any actions that would threaten the very government he served? Even if Taneda himself had any suspicions, he had refrained from speaking his mind, for neither the military nor the government could risk destabilizing the peace they had just regained in the aftermath of a global war.</p><p>Now, they paid the price for their negligence.</p><p>The butler frowned, his keen gaze passing to and from the vampire and Ango. “The novelist?”</p><p>“Yes,” the vampire said, dragging out the syllable to a hiss.</p><p>The elevator doors opened, revealing the deepest level of the basement parking that was otherwise deserted. Four humans, a vampire, and a metal case exited the compartment in silence. Even if the dim lights went out and they were ambushed, the vampire with them was still the greatest immediate threat in the area.</p><p>It was with that discomfiting realization in mind that Ango boarded the black van after the vampire. Takuichi took the driver’s seat, Murakoso stayed with the crate at the back, and Walter slid the door shut after taking his seat next to Ango.</p><p>“Bram Stoker was one of the first Hellsing’s associates.” Walter stroked his chin, his gazed fixed on the vampire’s back in thinly-veiled concern. Their brief walk may have given the butler time to compose himself, and Ango had little doubt any important secrets from <i>that</i> family would be omitted. “His friendship with Dr. Van Helsing began after the family established our Order in England. He was widely travelled thanks to his work with the actor Henry Irving, and his knowledge of the occult arts was formidable. Stoker published the novel <i>Dracula</i> with Dr. Van Helsing’s blessing, and he disappeared shortly after while he was travelling to Germany.”</p><p>“Was his body ever found?”</p><p>“I don’t believe so.”</p><p>Apart from Stoker’s interest in the occult, which actually wasn’t out of place for the period and society he was born in, everything else lined up with the records Ango found. Come to think of it, Stoker himself matched the profile of those who might have collaborated with the Order: intelligent, well-travelled, willing to dabble in the arcane arts, and connected to those with wealth and fame. It was no accident that the Order of the Clock Tower had transformed into the most powerful Gifted Organizations in the world, although Ango had yet to see evidence that Stoker himself had influenced its early years.</p><p>Perhaps he was looking at it from the wrong angle. Van Helsing himself might be the Order’s original contact in the Hellsing Organization, given that their mutual desire to serve the Crown would be a better incentive for cooperation beyond scholarly interest.  </p><p>“And you?” Now, the vampire pinned Ango with his gaze, bringing out an impossibly large handgun from inside his suit jacket and pressing the muzzle on Ango’s chest for emphasis. The creature’s fangs were bared in a parody of a smile, and Ango found himself conflicted with what to focus on first – that he had another gun pointed at him? That a <i>vampire</i> bothered using a gun? That the gun itself looked like a custom model, its barrel heavy enough to bludgeon a human to death? That the vampire towered over him, pinning him to the seat like a grotesque four-legged spider with disjointed limbs? That the intensity of the vampire’s actions reeked of a strange urgency that clashed with his earlier disaffected amusement? “Where did you find this? Lie to me about this or his identity, and dying will be the least of your worries.” </p><p>“I only have his documents to go on,” Ango said, feeling himself split away from his terror as adrenaline rushed through him. Fight or flight – neither was the correct response. <i>Wait</i> was the only agonizing option, and wasn’t it remarkable that he hasn’t been hypnotized yet to reveal the truth? According to Stoker’s own book, this vampire was capable of hypnosis – how far was fact from fiction? “Fukuchi reported his death ten years ago. Then, very recently, an associate of mine barely escaped an attack from Fukuchi, but not without a casualty.”</p><p>Ango continued to recount the situation, the need to keep his summary concise the very thing that kept him from descending into panic: Atsushi’s discovery that Fukuchi was the fourth member of an organization intent on destabilizing Yokohama and wiping out their Ability Users off the map, Akutagawa’s attempt to save him, Akutagawa’s death and membership in the Port Mafia. The sudden darkness that overcame the Port Mafia’s membership, the growing disappearances. The unresponsive surveillance videos from having all security cameras on the street and various properties destroyed. The drone they sent in meeting the same fate, but not before its success in capturing a few blurred photos of a corpse on the ground, its arms, torso and legs littered with tell-tale puncture wounds that showed through torn clothing.</p><p>It stood to reason, of course, that the actual vampires themselves didn’t show up on a regular camera. The lens they had used to capture Stoker’s image was a highly specialized one, crafted by an Ability User trained to use onmyouji techniques.</p><p>“As of this morning, ten thousand people are reported to have disappeared,” Ango said, the weight of that number bringing the taste of ash in his mouth. For a moment, he was back in the hidden room of an accounting firm, sorting through the IDs and memorabilia of the dead. “Officially, this matter has been taken from my hands. The military was sent in to assess the situation. This photo is not included in their report, but was procured from an older, harder to access file.”</p><p>He omitted mentioning that Christie’s spies must be placed high up in the chain of command, if the intel that prompted her to contact Ango’s department was the source of her information.</p><p>The vampire made a sound of disgust before sitting down, tucking back the pistol into his jacket and looking out the window. <i>”Humans.”</i></p><p>Very slowly, Ango allowed himself to let out a silent breath and relax his shoulders. He could sympathize with the sentiment, given how much this power struggle had upturned everyone’s lives.</p><p>“If I may,” Walter interjected, taking over from the vampire, “why is your hunter invested in taking out your Mafia in this manner? Surely there are less dramatic ways to subjugating that group while maintaining his reputation.”</p><p>“He and other interested parties like Dame Christie wish to obtain something that we’re protecting in this city.” Ango glanced at him. “You’ll have to forgive me if I’ll say no more unless it’s absolutely necessary. For now, I’d like to focus on the problem at hand.”</p><p>“Of course.”</p><p>“Dame Christie said this was a ghoul problem. Why ghoul, and not vampire?”</p><p>“Ghouls are created when a vampire fully drains a human of their blood and places them under a special thrall,” the vampire said, still looking out the window. “They will not turn back into a human once the vampire is destroyed. The only way for them to regain their senses is for them to drink a vampire’s blood in order to be turned, but not everyone survives that process.”</p><p>“Oh,” Ango started, his heart tight in his chest, the blood draining from his face as the exhaustion of the past three weeks came crashing down on him. Was there no way to save these people? Was it the end of the line?</p><p>He studied the vampire’s profile, larger than life almost, dignified in his aloofness as he surveyed the city beyond the window. One who hunted his own kind, even if they turned out to be someone they knew from long ago. The vampire’s attitude when they discussed Van Helsing pulled at Ango’s memory – he showed no hatred for the man who defeated him. Indeed, he seemed rather pleased that Van Helsing’s descendant was also respected. The vampire bore no signs of holding a grudge against his master.</p><p>As for the Port Mafia, it could be said by a normal human that their organization was made up of monsters, led by a monster of ruthless logic.</p><p>The wheels in Ango’s mind began to turn. If he was killed for making this suggestion, then so be it. “What are the conditions for a successful turning?”</p><p>While those sunglasses obscured the vampire’s periphery, Ango got the impression he was being side-eyed. Even in the daytime, the shadows within the van seemed to grow darker, and the intense energy radiating from the vampire would’ve made the faint of heart pass out. “Why does it matter when we’re eliminating them?”</p><p>Ango’s hands tightened to fists on his lap as he reminded himself to breathe. “I would like to give them a choice.”</p><p>The pressure bearing down on him paused. “A choice?”</p><p>“A choice,” Ango said, wishing he could loosen his necktie and collar. Such a motion, however, would be a terrible mistake, in that it was a show of weakness. Doubly so, when he was negotiating with a vampire who might take that as an invitation for a snack. “They are, in their own way, the guardians of the night in this city. If there are those who don’t mind saying goodbye to eternal sleep and staying on to continue the job, I don’t mind making discreet arrangements to keep them on. Perhaps, even, in a fashion similar to your arrangement with Sir Hellsing.”</p><p>From her station behind the vampire, a pale Murakoso stared at Ango in shock, hand clapped to her mouth before she could voice her own objections. No doubt that Takuichi, who had to be commended for maintaining a smooth drive up to this point, was gripping the steering wheel tight.</p><p>“A choice.” The vampire slowly turned to face Ango, his mouth widening as he tested the word in his tongue. The shadows rippled. “A <i>choice.</i>”</p><p>Even Walter, the vampire’s <i>companion,</i> looked alarmed. “Alucard?”</p><p>“A choice,” the vampire boomed as he hunched over into a fit of laughter, clawing at his own chest and stomach, and the very sound of it sent shivers crawling up Ango’s spine. It was as if the gates of Hell had opened, an invitation to make a deal with the Devil. “A <i>choice,</i> he says, a human who dares to be the master of monsters. Monsters, who might not even <i>be</i> worthy to be called ‘vampires.’”</p><p>Ango pressed his lips into a thin, pale line and said nothing.</p><p>The vampire continued laughing, the echoes of the howling wind at the crossroads. “Do you fancy yourself as a shepherd of lost souls, boy? For it is not sheep that you flock, but the very dogs from Hell.”</p><p>“Only <i>if</i> they so choose,” Ango said, unable to help drawing a comparison between the vampire’s mirth and Mori’s. The former won in spades. But no, he wouldn’t give Mori Ougai an immortal subordinate capable of inflicting unspeakable terrors to their targets. Not by a long shot. “Should they refuse, I will have a stake with their name on it.”</p><p>“Ah,” the vampire said, leaning back in his seat as his laughter mellowed, though his grin still showed two rows of perfectly sharp teeth. “The arrogance. The <i>hubris.</i> Very well, Diplomat. You will come with me when I hunt for Stoker, and we will first see what he has to say for himself.”</p><p>Ango choked. He was going to do what, now? “Pardon?”</p><p>“Give him a gun later, Walter,” said the vampire Alucard, looking rather pleased with this turn of events. “Let’s see if he’s worthy of such a task.”</p><p>“As you wish,” Walter said with a bow, before lifting an eyebrow. “Is this wise?”</p><p>“Seek not wisdom from the accursed,” Alucard mockingly counselled, steepling his fingers on his knee. “But if he wishes to tame my kind, he might as well see the irregularities of this new brood up close and personal. Assuming any of them are strong enough to survive my gun and a full Turning.”</p><p>“’Irregularities,’” Ango repeated faintly, his pulse a drum in his ears. “Are these ghouls not normal?”</p><p>“Not at the speed and scale they’re being made,” Alucard said, his tone an omen of carnage. “If they are, in any way, shape or form, connected to the incidents in England, you will be the first to know.”</p><p>And when, in a short while later, he was informed of the artificial vampires that Alucard encountered a few weeks ago, Ango found himself squeezing the grip of his loaned gun until its design was engraved into the skin of his palm.</p><p>
  <i>Millennium.</i>
</p><p>Another group of warmongers was the last thing Yokohama needed right now. As much as he’d like to think that Fukuchi wouldn’t cooperate with such a group, Ango was forced to admit that nothing about that man was certain anymore.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Integra won't be happy.</p><p>If it's not clear yet at what point in Hellsing canon this is set in, it will become obvious in the next chapter.</p><p>Comments are appreciated ♡</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>